Pride of the Lion
by Shakespira
Summary: Random moments in Leonie Caron's life that were not captured in the Lion trilogy, in no particular order and with no underlying theme. Duncan, Loghain and many other old friends return. Rated M...blame Riordan!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This is yet another story, because I am a masochist. Actually, it will be a series of dribs and drabs of Leonie Caron's life. Some chapters will be of her time with Duncan and others will be of her time with Loghain. They will be random, and probably updated sporadically. It isn't necessary to read the Lion trilogy but it will probably help make sense of certain chapters._

_Thank you, Lisa...your grace in accepting yet ANOTHER story is very much appreciated!_

_Thank you, Enaid, for your brilliance in coming up with the title for this story!_

_In this chapter, Leonie is trying to adjust to her new life with Loghain, after the Grey Wardens._

**Beneath a Smiling Moon**

Sleep was a mischievous child, tantalizingly close, yet just beyond her grasp. Leonie sighed softly and pushed the blankets away, her eyes darting to the window. The newly-risen moon dappled the floor with silvered fingers, beckoning her. Picking up her wrapper, she allowed herself to follow, padding quietly down the stairs and opening the door, wincing when the hinges protested at being disturbed. She listened intently, expecting to hear Loghain's feet hit the floor as he came in search of her. Relieved not to hear anything, she stepped into the sweetly-scented night.

She strolled lightly through the dewy grass, the blades tickling her bare feet as she walked down the hill to the field below. The moon, smiling sublimely as it drifted through the night sky, guided her. Travis had once told her the Chasind called such a moon a smiling moon. She stared up at the diffused light it gave off and thought she could make out a teasing smile.

Standing in its light, she became aware of how profound the silence was; the time when the creatures of the night had retired, and the creatures of the morning had yet to wake. Even the wind refrained from rustling through the trees. The only sound was the beating of her heart and even that was subdued.

It was the silence that made sleep a stranger at times. Her entire life had been lived around Wardens and the sounds of soldiers and the associated noise of life in a military compound. Losing her taint and moving to the parcel of land in the middle of nowhere amplified the intensity of the silence around her.

Sighing, she spread her wrapper on the ground and sank down, allowing her thoughts to form and penetrate the stillness. Maker, she missed the sweet sound of her tainted blood singing in her veins. She missed her Wardens, who were no longer _her_ Wardens, now that Nathaniel was the Warden Commander.

Andraste's grace, what had she been thinking to hand it all over to someone else and walk away after a lifetime spent working toward the goal of becoming First Warden? To move to the countryside where the silence was absolute when she had spent a lifetime surrounded by warriors and friends?

She closed her eyes against the stinging accusation of tears. She would not cry. She had spent most of the last year in tears, near tears, or fighting tears and she didn't want to shed one more. She had chosen her new life and she would, by the Maker, learn to appreciate it.

Riordan would laugh at her if he saw her. He had been her mentor, her confidant as she grew up, and, now, seeing her as a farmer's wife, when she knew nothing about farming, would amuse him no end. The ache, dulled by time, but still there, bloomed in her chest. He would want her to be happy and settled, she just wasn't sure she was. Sitting in the silvered grace of a smiling moon, she wasn't even sure what _would_ make her happy. He would tease her without mercy if he could see her standing ankle deep in dirt, spreading seed as if she knew what she was doing. Not that it was planting season, according to Loghain.

And she could not think of Riordan without her thoughts turning to Duncan, and that sweet, bitter ache grew. She missed his tender counsel, his quiet strength and the grace he'd brought to her life. Still. Always. Somewhere, locked in a place not touched by others, he lived on, a silent reminder of all that she had become through his loving guidance.

A farmer's wife? What had she been thinking? She tilted her head up to stare at the smiling moon, seeking answers that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted. She loved Loghain. She loved him without reservation, and she was delighted to see how happy he was at returning to his roots. But they were _his _roots, not hers. Did he even know how out-of-place she felt? How lost she was?

She plucked at the grass with agitated fingers. She was still adjusting to life without the Wardens. Did Loghain recognize the restlessness in her? The need for more in her life than a farm? She wanted children, but even with the taint no longer coursing through her, there was no guarantee that she could bear any children. In fact, Anders thought it unlikely, given her age and the damage her body had suffered during those missing hours when she was sure she had already died.

A stir in the air currents made her muscles tense and she clutched a blade of grass in nervous fingers.

"You failed to butter me to death so you plan to stick me with a deadly blade of grass, do you?" Loghain asked dryly, his voice sleep-roughened.

Leonie's head snapped up and she let out a hissing breath. "Must you sneak up on me?"

"Yes, if only to see what devious method of death you have planned for me."

He wore only a blanket and a thin pair of breeches, his hair unbound and disheveled from sleep. A rare smile flickered across his features as he waited for her to respond.

"Better men than you have fallen beneath it," she replied, wielding the blade of grass like a weapon.

"It's a wonder the Orlesians ever managed to conquer any land, given their choices in weaponry."

She laughed softly. "We conquer because of those weapons, yes? While the enemy laughs at us, we march through them, brandishing our weapons of butter knives, blades of grass, and the occasional pointy-toed shoe, until the entire nation has collapsed with laughter."

She shifted slightly, inviting Loghain to join her. "You are a great tactician, yes? Surely you have considered such a strategy yourself?"

Loghain shook his head and unwrapped the blanket, draping it around them both. He pulled her closer and she didn't resist. He was a solid presence in an unknown land and she sought his comfort, feeling weak for needing it.

"Now, suppose you tell me why you haven't been able to sleep these past few weeks?"

"Do you know what this moon is called?" she asked, changing the subject. She was unwilling to give voice to thoughts she suspected would inflict wounds. They had inflicted enough on each other through the course of their courtship; she didn't want to inflict more.

"Do not think to change the topic, Leonie. It's obvious you've a great deal on your mind. I may not be the most insightful person, but neither am I the most dim-witted."

There was a slight barb in his words, a certain sharpness in his voice that meant he was hurt and preparing for a fight. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "You are such a stubborn man."

"So you've been delighted to point out on more than one occasion."

"Yet it does not seem to have deterred you from being so, yes?"

She glanced at his face, lit with the soft glow of the moon, to see a sleek black brow raised.

"I love you," she began, striving for words that would help and not hurt.

"But?" he prodded. He held himself aloof, as if he already knew what she would say.

She pushed to her feet, leaving his warmth behind, in favor of pacing through the damp grass. She ran a hand through her hair and came to a halt in front of him again. "It is too quiet! Maker's breath, I cannot understand how one finds such silence peaceful!" she burst out.

His sleek black brow lowered to knit with the other in a frown. "Too quiet?" he asked, and his voice was a reflection of the coming winter.

"I cannot do this," she continued, listening in horror as words tumbled from her mouth like apples from an upturned basket. "I cannot cook. I know nothing of farming. I miss Varel and the Wardens. I am not meant for this quiet life. I cannot live this life."

He stood in one fluid motion and came to put his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from pacing. "You _cannot_? Or you _will_ _not_?" he asked, meeting her eyes with a steely blue gaze that held her in place.

"I – do you not miss the life of a soldier? The song in your blood that is answered by the other Wardens?" she asked, feeling cruel and confused and suddenly alone in her misery.

"I was a soldier for longer than you have been alive, Leonie. Of course I miss it. But if you think I'll go back to it now, having experienced this," he added with a sweeping gesture that included her, as well as the farm, "you are sadly mistaken."

Her heart dropped and her brain stumbled to a stop. "I – I do not know how to live this life," she admitted around the lump of emotion balling up in her throat. Her shoulders would have slumped but his grip on them was iron.

"Did you pick up a sword and shield for the first time and know immediately how to use them? Did you lead your first battle without making mistakes? And, lest you believe you did, let me assure you that you were still learning when I met you," he added with a slight twitch of lips. "Cooking and being a farmer's wife will come to you in time. As to the song in your blood, that is your impatience speaking. If you listen, you'll hear it," he chided.

She blinked. "I am no longer tainted, how can I hear it?"

Loghain shook his head and she wanted to stamp her foot impatiently, which would only prove his assertion. She sighed and repeated her question in a less accusatory voice.

"I can hear your blood sing to me, Leonie. Not in the same way, but it is there in your smile, in your touch. You've only to stop being afraid to fail."

Leonie was stunned into silence by his insight. She _was_ afraid, and she _was_ failing miserably. She had yet to make a loaf of bread that wasn't as flat and black as shoe leather and her blackened-rabbit stew wasn't even fit to feed to the livestock.

"The question is: do you want this life?" he asked, his voice without inflection of any kind.

Did she? It was so like Loghain to cut down to the heart and examine it, as if it was merely one of his stalks of wheat, or whatever he planned on planting in the fields. She couldn't give him a decent meal, or assist with the farm chores, without causing additional work for him. And with only each other for company, how long before he grew tired of her? Or she of him? Everything about this life was foreign to her, overwhelming her with a sense of failure.

As loath as she was to admit it, he was right. She could learn if she gave herself permission to fail. He teased her about her lack of culinary skills, but he hadn't actually complained. It was her own stubborn pride that demanded she was unfit for the new life she had chosen because it did not come naturally to her. Not in the way being a Grey Warden had. But that life was over and she had left it willingly. Now that it was proving more difficult than she had imagined, was she prepared to walk away from it? Her answer was spoken on the breath of a sigh.

"I want you, Loghain."

"This is part of me, Leonie," he answered firmly. "This land, the farm, the life it brings with it. All of these things are a part of me."

Yes, they were. And she loved to watch him squat down to grab up a handful of soil and breathe it in. She loved walking the land with him, hand in hand, as he explained the need for crop rotation and soil amendments. Not because she understood a word he was saying, but because they were together. Perhaps it was time she allowed him to teach her. Perhaps it was time she learned to let go of her old life.

She moved away from him, pacing again. He settled once more on her wrapper, staring out at the fields that were bathed in an ethereal blue glow from the moon. He hadn't forced her to make the decision to walk away from her former life. She had made it for herself, and now she was putting the onus of finding happiness in it on his shoulders.

"Will you refrain from laughing at my cooking attempts?" she demanded, coming to stand over him, frowning.

"I can't promise that, no. In my defense, I didn't laugh at your apple pie _debacle_."

"Only because you were too busy choking on it."

Loghain's brows quirked and his lips curved slightly. "One can hardly blame me for choking on an apple stem," he said quietly, humor underscoring his words.

Her laughter caught her by surprise. This was where she was meant to be, here with him. She knew that as surely as she knew that the moon smiled down on them. She knelt in front of him, throwing herself into his arms and he caught her, falling back with a soft thud.

"You didn't have to remind me of that," she huffed, punctuating each word with a kiss.

He pulled her close, his lips moving against hers, and she gave herself up to the feeling of their bodies melding. "I mentioned it only in the hope of preventing future such atrocities," he whispered, his breath warm against her cool skin.

"I suppose a trip to Orlais, to remind you of all the reasons we chose this life, might be in order," he continued a few moments later.

"_You_ would travel to Orlais?" she asked in disbelief, pulling away to study his face, looking for signs of more teasing. He was looking disgustingly smug, and her heart thudded in her chest. He was serious.

"I would. In fact, I have already made the arrangements."

"What? How did you make arrangements without me knowing about them?"

Loghain raised a brow. "You give me very little credit, Mistress Mac Tir. Is it not within the purview of the newly-wedded husband to arrange the wedding trip?"

Leonie was speechless, and he took advantage of that, pulling her down for another kiss. She lost herself in him, in the night that surrounded them. She loved him, and, somehow, she would overcome her fear of failing, her uncertainty. She would make her life with him work because she couldn't imagine herself anywhere but by his side.

She shifted and rolled over, pulling him with her. "There is no need, you know. It is enough that you would offer," she told him, gazing up at his stern features. He lowered his lips to hers.

"Indeed. Yet, I find myself curious about a country that can raise such a fierce warrior, but is unable to teach that same warrior how to cook. And, if we're lucky, I might even be able to examine the vicious weapons that Orlesians are so fond of."

"Oh no, those are state secrets," she began but was prevented from continuing as he once again captured her lips in a searing kiss.

They lay in each other's arms, discussing a trip to Orlais that she would never have thought possible. With his arms wrapped around her, she realized that her choice to stay or go had never been hers to begin with. Her heart had chosen long before her mind had even considered it.

The moon, smiling its benediction, sailed on in the silence of the night sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: _Events from_ c_hapters 2, 8, 13, 14 and 37 of The Lion of Orlais are referenced in this chapter_.  
><em>Thank you, as always, Lisa, for a speedy and superb beta!<em>

**Through the Past to the Future**

Spring was a bright green carpet of rolling hills, ablaze with gaily-colored wildflowers that dipped and swayed as they danced with a merry breeze. Above, gliding on an unseen current, a lone hawk welcomed them with a series of whistles and calls.

Leonie's smile rivaled the brilliance of the sun, she was sure, and she graciously bestowed it on her glowering husband in the hope of brightening his dark countenance. He merely raised a brow at her before returning his attention to the road.

She had insisted they change their itinerary, making Jader their first stop on their planned wedding journey and she hoped he would eventually understand why she felt it necessary. Before she could explain her reasoning, though, there was somewhere she needed to visit and her thoughts led her to another spring day, a perfect spring day...

_As they rode out of the gates and toward the city of Jader, Leonie could not help the laughter that bubbled up within her. Her heart felt lighter, her grief and fear peeling away slowly, layer by layer. The day only added to that feeling of lightness. Like so many days in Orlais, the sky was flawlessly blue with a temperate wind that brought the scent of spice and flowers with it, tickling her nose. The horses whickered and neighed as they rode side by side. It was a day made for riding. For freedom. For being in love. Leonie laughed again, the joy in her sparkling like a precious gem._

_To her great relief, Duncan was more relaxed. He seemed at peace, as if his own struggle with guilt had been waged and he the victor. She glanced at him as they cantered along the dusty road and she caught him smiling at her, could feel his love wrapping around her. Her heart fluttered and swelled. This was a rare, perfect moment where sky and earth and man and woman came together in complete harmony._

_A single perfect moment, captured in her heart forever…_

She reined in, experiencing that same flush of pure, unadulterated happiness sweep through her, another perfect day in a place that held memories of a different life. She turned in her saddle, facing her frowning husband. "You should be happy. Were you not complaining earlier about that…" she paused, lowering her voice and scowling before continuing, "…damnable pitching and accursed ship?"

Loghain's glower shifted only slightly. "I seem to recall your stomach emptying a time or two, Mistress Mac Tir."

Leonie laughed. "I said _I_ was a good sailor, not that my stomach was," she replied.

"Semantics," he muttered.

She edged her horse closer and removed a glove, letting her fingers ease the lines furrowing between his brows.

"Need I remind you that this trip was _your _idea?" she asked.

"No, you need _not_," he replied coolly, but she saw a lessening of tension in his shoulders.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "Need I remind you that I love you? That I am honored to be your wife?"

A slight smile softened his severe expression. "Yes, I believe you do need to."

"I love you, Loghain Mac Tir. I am honored to be your wife."

Loghain's smile deepened, but he spurred his horse forward, as if to hide it, and she pressed on, her laughter bubbling happily inside her.

She was still smiling when they entered Jader's Grey Warden compound. Memories caressed her thoughts, soft and blurred by the loving hand of time. The manor house proudly wore a fresh coat of paint and old Raban, rheumy eyes overflowing with tears, helped her dismount.

"Where are all the Wardens?" she asked, glancing around the empty practice yard where she and Perot had spent many an hour.

"Off to some meeting in Montsimmard. Only a few of us are here. Are you staying long, Lion?"

"That depends," she replied enigmatically, giving the old stablemaster a kiss on his weathered cheek.

"Well now, and who's this big fellow beside you?"

Leonie placed a hand on Loghain's arm and smiled proudly. "This is my husband, Loghain Mac Tir."

To his credit, old Raban's lips held onto his smile, and, if his eyes widened in surprise, she would not chastise him for his lapse. "Welcome, General Mac Tir," the man said, doffing his cap.

"Just Loghain, I'm a farmer now," Loghain replied with the same irritated tone he used whenever he corrected someone about his title.

"And you, Lion? Is it true that your taint is gone? That you aren't a Warden?"

She heard Loghain's quick indrawn breath and she hoped she reassured him with her answer. "I am no longer a Warden, Raban, but I find I am beginning to enjoy the quiet."

Loghain rested a hand on the small of her back and she knew he was relieved by her answer. It was true. Having given voice to it back on their farm, she had set her confusion and anxiety free, leaving her calmer, but no better a cook.

Entering her old home, her eyes immediately went to the large portrait of Balfour Caron, blazing red hair neatly brushed, and Warden Commander plate armor impeccably polished. "That is my father," she explained. "He went to his Calling when I was eighteen, just months after I became a Warden," she explained.

"Well, I see where you get that stubborn glint in your eyes," Loghain remarked, staring up at the portrait.

"Indeed? You and your effusive compliments," she replied, shaking her head.

She paused at the entrance to the dining hall as memories halted her steps. So many meals shared with old and much-loved friends and family: her eighteenth birthday feast, the celebration dinner when she had finally begun to heal after Montran. She blinked, tilting her head, listening. She could almost hear the raucous laughter of those nights, could almost smell the dinners that Freya had labored all day preparing. Again, she felt Loghain's hand, light and steadying on the small of her back and she was immeasurably grateful for his strength.

The kitchen was quiet. Freya and Gerard had both passed away within weeks of each other, but the former undercook, Gilleanne, looked up from her cup of tea, her face wreathed in smiles.

"Lady Leonie!" she exclaimed and for a moment Leonie was afraid the woman would curtsy. Instead, the older woman held her arms out and Leonie went into them, dropping a light kiss on the woman's cheek.

"Freya would be so happy to see you settled, my lady."

"Lion. You never hesitated to call me Lion when you chased me out of the kitchen with your rolling pin," Leonie teased and the woman laughed.

"True enough, Lion. True enough."

"Would you make my husband, Loghain Mac Tir, a cup of Orlesian Black Tea? He acquired a taste for it."

A flash of surprise scurried across Gilleanne's plump face before disappearing in another smile. "It would be an honor, ser."

Loghain looked somewhat taken aback when she settled him in a chair and began to flutter about the kitchen like a butterfly trying to escape a glass jar. Leonie, hands clasped in front of her, knew he was in good hands and she turned to leave.

"Wait, where are you going?" Loghain asked, his voice low and tinged with panic.

"I need a few moments alone, Loghain. I will not be long, and, if you ask her, Gilleanne will find you some spice cake to go with your tea," she reassured before turning and making her way outside again.

She passed the rose garden, long since recovered from her nearly fatal attention, and made her way down to the meadow, her steps quick, her heart skittering in her chest. Would it be the same? Would the memories overwhelm her? Was she the biggest fool in Thedas to have come back to a place that was no longer her home? Her steps slowed and she took several deep breaths.

The oak stood as it always had, unperturbed by the passage of time, branches spread in welcome. Somehow she had expected Duncan to be sitting beneath it, legs stretched out, head tilted back and arms folded as he waited for her. He had promised to wait for her there, in his last letter, and he always kept his promises.

Duncan. Her Rivaini Pirate. She could almost see him, blurred by time and waning recollections. She closed her eyes, memories drifting through her like snowflakes, each one uniquely different. She found, to her amazement, the pain she had so often felt when thinking of him had also blurred and waned.

"I hope Peacock is with you," she whispered. "I hope that you both will find it in your hearts to accept Loghain. I hope you will both forgive any hurt this might cause."

She closed her eyes again. "I have something to tell you. I know it is foolish, but I need your blessing, my beloved Duncan. I am with child, Loghain's child. I had always thought motherhood was beyond my grasp, but here I am. I have not told him this; I wished you to know first. You are the one who taught me how to love, so it is your blessing I now require."

She felt a breeze stir to life, tossing her curls playfully, and, for just the briefest of moments, she thought she felt a light touch on her lips, thought she smelled the earthy musk of Duncan tickle her nose. She opened her eyes, tears forming as silent witness to the grace of a life that now lived only in her heart.

Loghain had once told her that everyone wore their past; that it was in the lines in their faces, the words they spoke, the way they chose to live their lives. She hoped so, because it was her past that had brought her to her present, and gave her hope for her future.

She turned to leave, and, once again, the wind quickened. The branches of the oak swayed and danced, and she thought she heard laughter echoing in the breeze; laughter that was low and wicked and unmistakably Riordan's. "I love you too, Peacock."

She reached up on her tiptoes and broke off a small branch of the oak, before taking one last look around the meadow that held such sweet memories. "Until we meet again, I will keep this to remember you both by."

Loghain stood the moment she entered the kitchen, looking absurdly relieved to see her. She didn't wipe away her tears, but she found she was smiling through them.

"We should leave now."

Loghain frowned. "We just arrived. The ship for Val Royeaux doesn't sail for two days."

"Ah, but the ship for Denerim departs on the evening tide. And that, my taciturn husband, is where we are bound."

"Lest I have failed to mention this of late, wife, you have a very odd sense of humor."

Leonie's smile brightened. "You have not failed to mention it, Loghain, let me assure you."

She tucked her arm through his and bade Gilleanne goodbye. Stepping into the bright spring sunshine, Loghain stopped, shielding his eyes and stared at her, his expression mulish.

"There's no need to leave if you're doing it for my sake," he said, all prickly pride and determination.

"This I know, Loghain. However, I wish to be home. Perhaps, after our child is born, we can plan another trip."

There was a long pause and Leonie watched him carefully, seeing the moment her words registered with him. His eyes widened and his breath caught before he regained his equilibrium.

"A child, you say?" he asked, a smug smile coming out and lingering on his lips. "What child would that be?"

Leonie took his hand in hers and held it to her stomach briefly. "_This_ child," she answered tenderly. "_Our_ child. You did not really think me so poor a sailor, did you?"

He was still chuckling as they rode out of Jader under a brilliant blue sky. Her heart fluttered and swelled. She recognized, once again, that it was a rare, perfect moment where sky and earth and man and woman came together in complete harmony.

A single perfect moment, captured in her heart forever, to reside with other moments and memories.


End file.
